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“uh, i didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
the camera adjusts, zooming and focusing slightly to focus on sunghoon, seated casually on a stool, one foot hook on the bottom rung, the other plants firmly on the studio floor, tapping his feet.. he wears a muted gray sweater, sleeves roll to his elbows, hair sweeps back, not styled so much as raked through his hair. the mole on his nose catches the soft studio lighting.
“you mean dating her?”
sunghoon tilts his head at first like he’s in a thought, then nods. slowly. his shoulders give a mild shrug, as though trying to shake something off. his gaze flicker down and to the left—toward the floor, the memory, or maybe the guilt—before returning to the lens. his lips lift into a half-smile. not sheepish. not smug. just soft.
not guilty either. just nostalgic.
in the background, the cameraman shifts, the mic briefly catching the creak of the rig. the room holds its breath for a second.
sunghoon blinks, thumb brushing his ring finger absently.
cut.
—
the classroom door slammed open with the metallic scrape of plastic on the tile. “dude! why didn’t you tell me she’s in your class?!” jake’s voice rang out before his body even fully entered the frame. few heads turned, but he didn’t care.
he was still out of breath from soccer practice, hair messy and damp and tousled, shirt clinging to his collarbone, only half–buttoned over the white tee beneath. his bag hung off one shoulder like an afterthought, swinging as he made a beeline for the back row.
sunghoon pulled out one earbud and looked up, brows lifting in confusion.
“what?”
jake dragged a vacant chair across the floor and dropped into it beside sunghoon’s desk with a thud, exhaling hard and dramatically. his eyes were wide, buzzing with disbelief. “yn! yn ln! she’s in your class this whole time?”
sunghoon blinked, pulled halfway out of his nap. “who? we just started school last week.”
jake groaned, running his hand across his face. “are you serious? my primary school crush! you know i liked her since forever, right?”
the friend leaned back in his seat and turned slightly, eyes scanning the front rows. the classroom was half-full—just a few students finishing lunch or completing their homeworks for the next period. someone was napping near the teacher’s desk, and some boys were playing moba games in their circle.
somewhere in the middle of the class—a pink and white bag with a rabbit keychain hung from the back of a chair. the seat was empty, but her presence lingered like the smell of a body lotion after someone passed you in the hallway.
jake followed sunghoon’s gaze—pointed at it, nearly leaping out of the chair he was sitting on.
“that’s hers! that’s her bag—she was here just now,” his eyes went wide, smacking sunghoon’s forearm. he winched softly. “dude, you seriously didn’t notice her? are you even my real friend?” he joked, shaking his head with mock betrayal. his grin was all teeth and obvious.
yeah—he hadn’t noticed.
but now that jake said it, now that he was looking—he could picture you. it came back like a slow pour. the way you always came into class with the same two girls by your side, always laughing over some inside joke only the three of you knew. always in those white socks higher than regulation because you think it’s boring to be the same as others.
your hair was always tied loosely with a ribbon, strands falling into your eyes, and you’d blow them away with a breath even when your hands weren’t full. the boys in class noticed.
honestly, everyone kind of did.
“she just moved—and for the record, the last time i saw her was when we were 12.” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “you expect me to remember her face after five years?” jake turned, eyebrows raised. “yeah? i mean, i do. i’ve remembered everything.”
he said it like a joke, but there was something almost serious in his tone. “she had braces then and she always tied her braid with a yellow ribbon.” sunghoon chuckled under his breath, “you’re insane.”
jake went out—recounting old stories, from how pretty you looked during a sports carnival when you had to be the mascot, the time you beat everyone in musical chairs, the time you cried when the class hamster died—sunghoon found himself searching through his own memory.
your face then was rounder, softer. you had those blindingly overly chalked white velcro shoes everyone hated (because they get dirty so quick) that you wore with pride anyway. your fringe was always a little crooked like you trimmed them yourself.
then he remembered your voice, light and unbothered and painfully childish. sunghoon remembered you running in socks down the corridor when one of the boys took your shoes. how he always found it so fucking weird that you held your chopsticks like pen. it was all coming back, bit by bit.
“—then she had to move to japan when we were starting middle school,” jake sighed, planting his chin atop the heel of his palm. “gosh, i didn’t know she came back.” he continued, almost dreamily. as if your return to korea was fate for jake.
sunghoon didn’t answer. he was still looking at your desk, still trying to match that blurry–faced girl from the past with the version of you now (that he only caught a glimpse of when everyone was doing self-introduction).
but then, the sound of the door sliding open woke both jake and sunghoon from their drifting thoughts. you stepped in, laughing at something your friend said. the sunlight from the hallway poured in behind you, catching in your hair and casting your silhouette long across the floor.
you didn’t look their way.
jake perked up almost immediately, he grabbed his water bottle, slung his bag over one shoulder like he hadn’t just been melting into some rando’s seat for the past fifteen minutes. “fuck, pretty girl is here,” he said under his breath, pushing the chair back. “gonna head out, see ya hoon.” he muttered it casually but there was a bright, giddy buzz to his voice.
“keep your eyes on her for me, thanks!” he exclaimed just as he exited the classroom.
sunghoon didn’t even get to bid his goodbye or reply when the chair clattered as jake left, footsteps fading quickly down the hallway. then, quiet.
his eyes flicked to the front again.
at you, who sat in the middle row stuffing your lunchbox inside your bag.
yeah. sunghoon remembered you now.
—
the screen fades in from black.
the lighting is softer. a handheld camera, maybe, from the way the frame sways just slightly. a girl sits across from the camera, legs crossed, hands resting in her lap. you wear a soft cream cardigan, hair tucked behind one ear.
a faint shuffle. “so… jake?”
you blink, a light hesitation. “jake…?” you repeat the name. or the question.
“he’s sunghoon’s bestfriend.” you smile, and laugh—the kind people give when they’re confused and not sure what’s funny. “yeah. i know him, of course! he’s always around, since… high school. but apparently we went to the same primary too,” you nod, recalling. “we were classmates but we weren’t close close.”
you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, posture straightening. you’re not sure where the question is going, but it doesn’t seem like the crew is going to change it anytime soon. “jake has always been so nice. he’s a really fun person to be around with. so comfortable to talk to.” you continue, smiling.
your eyes flick to the crew, hoping they’ll cut to the next question—but the silence stretches. you clear your throat softly.
“jake… jake’s always been by hoonie’s side. the two of them are like a package deal.” you laugh, genuinely this time. “he’s sunghoon’s bestfriend, since forever. so i always felt like i had to try a little harder when he’s around. not in a bad way—! just, ‘okay, this is my boyfriend’s bestfriend. don’t mess this up.’” you chuckle, puffing your cheeks as blush creeps over.
“i mean, you want the people they love to like you too, right?”
a beat.
then, behind the camera, the crew asks—”do you think jake likes you?”
your head jerks slightly, and you furrow, like you misheard.
“...sorry?”
“do you think sim jaeyun likes you?”
you blink, the question catches you off guard. the smile on your face falters just slightly, like someone opened a window and let a chill in.
“i… i hope so?” you let out a dry chuckle, breathier now. “i mean—i hope so! he’s sunghoon’s bestfriend.” you shift in your seat, something awkward curling in your posture now, like again—you’re not sure what the question means.
“i’d like to think he likes me,” you clarify, nodding. the implication is warm and safe. “as a person. as… as his bestfriend’s fiance.”
cut.
—
the afternoon sun hit a little too hard for a school day. it’s the beginning of summer, after all.
p.e was held at the old outdoor courts, and because two classes were being merged today, things were messier than usual. the teachers barely cared—just gave them the freedom to do anything, as long as they didn’t leave the court. most students split into uneven groups—some did something, and some did nothing at all.
tennis balls and shuttlecocks rolled everywhere.
sunghoon sat on the sideline, back against the fence, his water bottle sweating beside him. jake was lounging next to him, his legs stretched out as he chewed his gum.
across the court, a few girls from sunghoon’s class were passing a racket around, laughing loudly. you—were there too. hair tied up in a low ponytail, sleeved rolled, movements messy and quick. you swung and missed. your friends laughed. then all tried again.
it was hard not to notice—not when jake was staring. not in that creepy, open-mouthed way with saliva drooling, no. he was staring in that long, silent, watching way that sunghoon learned to recognise. jake wasn’t blinking much. his gaze was locked like he was watching something reel out in slow motion.
then sunghoon noticed it—your shirt hiked a little when you went for a serve—just a sliver of skin, just an inch above your waistband. the sun kissed it like it was trying to get a look too.
“stop staring,” sunghoon muttered, glancing at jake from the corner of his eyes. jake didn’t flinch, he didn’t even react. “wasn’t.”
—which was ironic, since chungdam high uniform literally included a skirt that exposed the female students' knees down to their ankles. yet, jake’s staring at something so little and small of your waist.
“you were.”
“whatever. she’s so cute.” jake leaned back, arms behind his head now, cushioning. his gaze stared up at the sky. “gotten so cute since the last time i saw her.” he continued.
sunghoon just hummed in response, not agreeing nor disagreeing. just acknowledging.
the sound of sneakers squeaking against the pavement. you’d just missed the ball again, but grinned with your hands on your hips, pretending to argue with your friend about it being unfair. you looked warm and flushed.
“do you think she remembers me?” jake suddenly said.
sunghoon let the question hang.
a tennis ball rolled near them, and he kicked it lazily back onto the court.
“don’t know,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck from where the sun hit. “if you guys talked before, then probably. yeah.”
jake paused. “well that didn’t help.”
you were hard to miss—but not because you tried to stand out. maybe it was because of the way you always looked so at ease, walking in the middle of a pack of girls at twelve years old. the kind of girls boys didn’t talk to because you never really allowed them to.
sunghoon figured that’s probably why jake never did.
“maybe i should talk to her. say hi, or something…” jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. sunghoon didn’t look at him, instead, he plucked the little grass poking out from the edge of the court. “go for it, then,”
“just don’t be weird about it.” he added after a beat. sunghoon could imagine jake saying something dumb—too loud or too confident or too insecure. flashing that same smile he used on literally everyone. he could already vision it: jake stopping you in your tracks to say hi, you blinking slowly, unsure of what to say back, and glance at your friends for help.
sunghoon might not be known as a good person like jake is, but he’s not a bad friend.
“maybe wait until she’s not surrounded,” sunghoon mumbled, flicking a strand of grass. “you’ll scare her off.” he didn’t say it unkindly. just plainly—like it was fact. jake squinted up at the sun, groaning as the little pebbles poked at his back. “i won’t scare her. i’ll make her like me back.”
sunghoon just shrugged, didn’t bother answering. whatever makes jake happy—whatever floats his boat.
you probably would.
like jake back.
—
sunghoon blamed the universe for putting both you and him in the same university—and jake away. he didn’t mean it in a mean way. it was more like… a bad alignment. like one of those stupid cosmic jokes where everything’s just slightly off, but enough to make you wonder if someone up there had it out for you.
you weren’t supposed to be here. you were supposed to go back japan. everyone knew. everyone said so.
sunghoon almost, almost didn’t recognise you at first. the first last time sunghoon saw you was when everyone was twelve, then eighteen, then now twenty three. five-year intervals, like you were some ghost the calendar coughed up every half-decade just to mess with his head.
you looked good. grown pretty in the way people do when life has taken them somewhere far and dropped them back off, just a little changed. your hair’s gotten longer, but you still have that baby face. when he first spotted you, like a magnet, people surrounded and handed you pieces of everything.
he tried avoiding you.
but there you were, sitting across from sunghoon at the welcoming party. you were clutching a plate of skewers and you’ve only managed to get even prettier. a few seniors had gathered the new intakes by one of the rich kids’ lawn, red and white fairy lights looping overhead, papercups scattered by the folding tables. someone was passing around watermelon, and a lot were surrounding the grill. mingling—trying to win over seniors for their own future advantages.
“park sunghoon?”
he looked up, feigning surprise like he hadn’t already clocked you the second he walked in. you were hard to miss.
you were always hard to miss.
“sunghoon, right?” you said again, tilting your head and sunghoon could see the gears functioning in your little head. he blinked, pausing mid-sip from his papercup. fuck…
“...hey,” he said finally, tone neutral and light. your shoulders dropped, visibly relieved. “oh thank god. i was really scared i got the wrong person for a second.” you smiled. sunghoon let out a breath of a chuckle, just the smallest exhale through his nose. “nah.”
you scooted closer to the table, hands clutching the edge of your bench. “do you… remember me?”
sunghoon looked at you. really looked this time. he took in the way your hair framed your face differently now. five years really changed someone’s features, huh, he thought. you lost the baby fat in your cheeks, the one that puff up whenever you smiled.
you eyes were the same, though. still full of curiosity. you sounded the same too, more grown, but still soft around the edges.
beneath it all—how could he forget you? when his own bestfriend’s world revolved around you.
you, who jake watched from a distance with a quiet devotion that sunghoon came to learn how to hold the secret in his hands. you, who jake never approached but always talked about on every occasion. you, who jake liked the way kids liked impossible things: constellations, miracles, the idea of requited love.
you, who jake loves so very much.
and probably still do.
you, who sunghoon knew the story by heart.
sunghoon’s tongue felt dry. he crumpled the rim of his cup slightly more, but you didn’t notice.
so yeah—”yeah,” he said, finally. “i remember you.”
turns out, you were supposed to fly to japan but your grandmother got sick so you ended up deferring. then reapplying. then staying. and for almost the whole night, the two of you ended up talking about things sunghoon couldn’t recall even if he’d like to. about life after high school, about this person, and that person. sunghoon nodded here and there, but the truth was—he didn’t really get what you were trying to say. not entirely. he knew how to pretend, though.
you didn’t bring up jake—not like you had to. for the whole senior year, jake didn’t approach you at all. despite him saying numerous, billions, quadrillions, countless times that he definitely would. and you’d one-hundred-one percent will fall in love with him. all bark no bite, sunghoon wanted to say then.
sunghoon remembered how jake would say your name like a prayer and carry your presence like a bruise. remembered how he’d skip his own curriculum just to catch a glimpse of you doing yours.
did you even remember jake, at all? sunghoon was sure you’d at least know his bestfriend’s existence, but that was all about it. maybe by name, maybe by face—a blurry boy from childhood who was the captain of the soccer team? the boy with fluffy black hair and confused face?
he could’ve brought him up—just a simple, “you know your primary school’s classmate, jake?” maybe that would’ve jogged something loose. maybe you’d tilt your head, squint a little, and say, “oh… that name sounds familiar.”
and from there, maybe sunghoon could’ve eased jake into the conversation. could’ve helped reconnect a thread that once tried to form (one-sided). maybe even give jake the chance he never, always scared, to take.
but sunghoon didn’t.
—
the camera flickers back on. jake is in the frame.
he’s seated with one leg bouncing as he leans slightly toward the camera. the lighting is lower now, duskier. the shadows fall longer on his handsome face, though it doesn’t dim the softness in his eyes.
someone off-camera clears their throat.
“tell us about sunghoon.”
jake laughs through his nose, nodding. “mmm. sunghoon,” tongue poking his cheek before he answers. “he’s like a brother to me.” he leans back, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair.
“we’ve known each other since forever. forever, forever. he’s the first person i met when i moved to korea from australia, and sunghoon… he’s that one person who just stays, no matter how much time passes. no matter how many things change,” his smile lifts, faint but fond. “sunghoon means a lot to me.”
a pause.
“we don’t have to talk all the time. being around sunghoon is already enough. with him, there’s this ease—maybe because we’re opposite of one another, so we make a pretty good pair.”
the camera cut to jake fidgeting the hem of his shirt.
“he’s been through a lot,” jake says, softer now. “but he never shows it. which is why—i think—a lot of people thinks sunghoon’s cold and intimidating. that dude’s just reserved, he carries everything in silence, but he…”
a beat. jake swallows the lump in his throat. “he’s one of the kindest person i know.”
another pause. longer this time. the clock ticks in the background.
“what about his fiance?”
jake’s eyes flick up, surprised. “what do you mean?”
“what do you think of her?”
jake blinks. his smile stays, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time.
“she’s…” he trails, then nods. “she’s wonderful.” he shifts in his seat, like something in him tightens. “she’s always been great,” he continues. “another kind person i know aside sunghoon. she’s warm, and she tends to talk a lot when she’s nervous.” he laughs, almost to himself.
“being around her makes me feel like i’m a teen again.” he laughs and slips out like an afterthought. he doesn’t look at the camera, his eyes drift slightly to the side, like he’s seeing something only he can see—like he’s remembering something no one else, besides himself, and maybe his bestfriend, ever witnessed.
“sometimes i catch myself wanting to tell her things i can’t tell sunghoon,” he shrugs, a little helpless, a little guilty, so bold. “and that’s saying something.” his knee starts bouncing again, but slower now. the camera zooms in just a little. enough to see the shift in his expression, the slight crease in his brow.
“... they make sense together,” he smiles, raking his hair through his fingers. “sunghoon’s good for her. she’s good for him,”
his smile returns, faint, but this time a little more fixed. like it’s being held in place. “i’m happy for them.” he says again.
beat.
then:
“do you like her?”
it’s the same question, asked in the same tone. neutral. non-threatening.
jake stills. he lifts his head slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to figure out if it’s a joke. “what?”
“do you like her, jake?”
the bounce in his leg stops as the silence stretches. his eyes flick toward the crew, then past the camera, then back down. jake smiles again—this one’s thinner, faint, tired. “yeah, of course i do,” he says finally.
“she’s sunghoon’s fiance.”
cut.
—
there were a lot of moments where jake wanted to tell you that he liked you way before sunghoon ever did. if he even liked you at all. it’s unfair.
because what jake felt for you… it had a name. he just couldn’t say it out loud. he just didn’t get to be the one who told you, because sunghoon said it first. and yeah sure—it’s partially his fault as well for not taking the chance earlier, but he was only scared teen with an uncertain future ahead.
he had a draft email titled “don’t send this” to you for goodness sake—a reminder to himself of everything he never said, and maybe never would. he wrote it during his finals week when he needed to blame someone for his lack of time managerial skills. jake started typing because he couldn’t bring himself to study—not with the thought of you tucked under sunghoon’s arm after the study session that jake skipped on purpose.
the draft started as a joke. a what-if. but turned into something else entirely.
you probably don’t know and will never do. but i’ve liked you since we were 9. you spilled yogurt on my worksheet and apologised and tried to wipe it off but it only tore the paper apart. i was angry but then you smiled and i guess that ruined everything for me.
this probably sounds so fucking dumb. you’re sunghoon’s girlfriend. you’re my bestfriend’s girlfriend and i’m not saying he doesn’t. but there’s no way he likes you.
at least, there’s no way he likes you more than i do. there’s no way sunghoon likes you, whom i’ve been in love with since fifteen years ago. he only knows you work part-time during senior year because i told him. he only knows you keep band-aids in your wallet because i found your wallet when you lost it. he doesn’t notice that you stop talking when the rain starts getting too loud. i cry when we graduated and you had to leave cheongdam.
the things that sunghoon knew, they all came from me.
jake didn’t continue writing or finishing the email. he never finished the sentence, never hit send, just let it sit there. collecting dust and cowardice. sitting in his drafts folder like a wound he picked at every few months—just to feel. just to make sure it’s still there, even if it hurts.
once, he hovered over the send button, tipsy on cheap liquor and the way your name looked in his inbox. he could’ve—jake could’ve ended it all. ended your relationship with sunghoon when you knew that your boyfriend ‘stole’ you, his own bestfriend’s first love. you were always the type to choose moral over anything.
he could’ve told you the truth and changed everything. but instead—he shut the laptop, took another swig, and passed out with your name still burning in his chest. because even in his worst, messiest, moment, jake was good at being a bestfriend.
even if sunghoon isn’t.
even if sunghoon looked him in the eye after months of not seeing each other and said, “i think i like her,” and jake laughed like it was funny, like the universe hadn’t just slammed a door in his face. even if sunghoon knew—the first and last to know—and still asked, “you don’t mind, right?” while sipping on his drink.
and of course jake said no, of course he didn’t mind. what kind of bestfriend would he be if he said yes?
“how—? why, though?” jake asked, swallowing the lump in his throat as he had to force his leg to stop bouncing anxiously under the table. “i mean… out of everyone?” he let out a dry chuckle, gripping the edge of his drink, cold sweat clinging to the glass.
“you… you never cared about her back then.”
sunghoon shrugged, eyes on the amber swirl in his cup. “she’s easy to talk to. we have a lot in common, actually,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “i never really noticed it before. but i get it now.”
jake furrowed his brows. “get what?”
sunghoon finally looked at him, and there was something unreadable in his expression. wistful, maybe. or selfish. or both. “what you felt,” he said. “back then. when you said you liked her.”
the words landed like a slap across jake’s face—too casual, too late.
momentarily, how dare he, jake thought. how fucking dare he.
after all these years—after holding his silence like a vow, after standing at sunghoon’s side through every dumb fight and every rant about his parents—sunghoon said this now? like it’s a moment they can both laugh about?
“what you felt”—like sunghoon understood. as if he understood unrequited feelings for fifteen long years. jake had loved you when he was still learning what love even was. he loved you when your friends surprised you with a flour attack for your birthday—and loved you the same when you dressed up as a disney princess for halloween. he loved you when you didn’t love him back.
and still, he kept loving you.
and sunghoon…
sunghoon was the one person he trusted with that love. the one person he let. he told him in a late-night haze before their high school finals that he was thinking of confessing to you on the last day of school.
he’d never do that to park sunghoon.
but here they were.
and sunghoon dared to say he understood. as if ‘stealing’ the only thing jake ever wanted was some rite of passage.
jake let out a quiet laugh, all breath and no humour. “yeah?” he said, eyes fixed on the ashtray between them. “you understand now?” sunghoon didn’t answer right away. he just nodded, the end of his lips curled into a smile. “i never get why you liked her so much. and then one day i just… did.”
“life’s so weird,” he chuckled, swirling the melting ice in his glass.
jake hummed, noncommittal. he reached for his drink, but didn’t take a sip. sunghoon had a choice, and you were one of it—and he blamed life for the things he decided.
“she’s exactly like you said. so funny even when she’s not trying to be. i get it now.”
“you were the first person i told,” jake said softly. he wasn’t sure where he was going with it, but it’s the only thing that felt right. “back then.” sunghoon’s gaze flicked to him, he didn’t say anything. “do you remember your reaction? you just said oh, and then you kept on telling me to just talk to her.”
sunghoon’s lips pressed into a thin line. he leaned back, eyes drifting somewhere past jake’s shoulder like he didn’t want to be in the memory. what’s past is past, right?
“you should’ve,” sunghoon finally replied. he ran his hand through his hair, taking a sip of his drink. when he sets it down, he locked his eyes on jake, blinking. “you don’t mind though, right?”
the question settled like fog between them—dense and inescapable.
jake looked at him. this boy—the same boy he’d grown up with, shared bedrooms with and bathed together, exchanged secrets with—the first boy jake told when he had his first wet dream, the same boy jake shared his older brother’s porn magazines with. the same boy who knew everything about jake. including how much she meant to him.
he forced a smile, the kind that curved his mouth but never reached his eyes. “yeah,” jake said, voice too light for the weight in his chest. “of course not.”
because what else was he supposed to say?
and both answers would affect their friendship, anyway. it was just the matter of whether it was a good, or a bad outcome.
but both were bad for jake.
if he said yes, he’d be the selfish one—the jealous bestfriend who couldn’t be happy for someone else’s happiness. the one who couldn’t let go. it wasn’t as if by saying yes, you would come to like him anyway.
if he said no, he’d lose you anyway. and he already did.
sunghoon didn’t mean to hurt him—jake knew that. jake hoped so. but that didn’t make it any less cruel. sometimes, the worst kind of pain wasn’t from people who hated you. it was from the ones who loved you, and still chose themselves.
“she’s not mine anyway,” jake joked, half to sunghoon, half to himself. he watched the amber liquid slosh against the sides like it might spill out what he couldn’t.
“goodluck sunghoon.”
—
“did you know jake liked her?”
sunghoon doesn’t respond right away. his mouth parts like he might—but then he shuts it, jaw flexing slightly as he looks down at his hands. fingers threaded now, thumbs pressing together.
“yeah,” he says, finally. almost comes out as a whisper. “i did.”
the pause that follows is thick, almost uncomfortable. apparent in the way the crew members look at each other. even the equipment knows now to make a sound. sunghoon lets out a slow exhale, tilting his head to glance at something off-screen. his voice is shockingly steadier when he continues.
“i know he liked her ever since we were nine. but then she moved, so i thought the feeling was done and over with,” sunghoon said, nodding to himself like he was fact-checking his words. “then she came back just during our senior year, and jake was back to square one.”
he exhales through his nose, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the edge of his lips. it disappears as quickly as it formed. “i didn’t think it was a big deal at first because i thought he’ll get over it. y’know, people change.” he shifts in the stool, thumb rubbing a faint circle into his palm. “but she didn’t feel like just anybody to him. and i should’ve remembered that.”
a beat.
“she’s someone to me now, too.”
sunghoon doesn’t blink right away. his gaze hangs in the space just past the camera, like he’s not really looking at anything—more like he’s remembering. “she’s…” he starts, then exhales a soft laugh, like he caught himself saying too much, but isn’t going to stop. “you know when someone makes you feel like the best version of yourself without trying?”
his thumb continues to worry his ring finger.
“it’s not even the obvious things… not the way she looks or how she dresses. it’s…” he pauses, then shrugs lightly, his voice softening. “the way she’s so focused on you when you’re talking. yn can light up a whole room with her presence alone. she makes you feel like you’re the only person who truly matters.”
sunghoon exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping. he rubs the back of his neck, heat rises up to his ears, painting them red. his gaze still hasn’t met the camera—it hovers somewhere to the side, distant. “when someone like her exists—how do you not fall?”
he lets the silence stretch out. then, like the thought only just occurred to him, sunghoon adds,
“i mean,” he says, darting his tongue to wet his lips. “i probably would’ve liked her even if she was my older brother’s ex, or something,” a half-smile tugs at his lips. “that’s just the kind of person yn is.”
cut.
—
the room was quiet except for the hum of the wind whistling through the sheer curtains and your breathing—slow, warm against sunghoon’s chest. your leg hooked loosely over his, cheek resting on his bicep, lashes still damp where they kissed the swell of your cheek.
so peaceful. lovely and trusting.
sunghoon just stared at the ceiling, eyes tracing the faint shadows cast from outside. he could feel the weight of your arm around his stomach. your scent lingered, the mixture of his bedroom, your shampoo, skin, sweat, and sex.
he swallowed.
yeah—the two of you did it. sunghoon made love to his bestfriend’s dream girl. he became the reason for your pleasured tears and meek moans. sunghoon was your first, as much as you were his.
jake must’ve at least once—dreamt about this. to be the one on top of you. to be the one who held you close and tight and heard the way you whispered his name, breathless, like it was holy. sunghoon knew how jake talked about taking you out if the two of you happened—the flowers he’ll buy, the separate bank account he’ll have just to take you out on lavish dates.
you didn’t even like luxury things. sunghoon knew that much.
the thought didn’t disgust him, but it didn’t sit quite right either.
you were soft, beautiful, asleep on his chest like you’ve always belonged there. the taste that you weren’t just jake’s—sunghoon’s bestfriend’s—girl anymore, but sunghoon’s, stayed bitter on his tongue. he turned his head slightly, just enough to see your hair fanned out across his pillow. it was easy to forget everything when you were looking at him like that.
but here in the quiet. in the dark, you’re asleep. so everything came back.
sunghoon liked you. he really did, genuinely, truthfully. but there was an annoying voice in the back of his mind that wouldn’t shut up.
would he still have wanted you if jake didn’t?
would he still have kissed you if you hadn’t once belonged to the fantasy of someone else?
he hated those questions. hated that not even him could answer that.
why was he doing all this?
his arm curled around your bare waist without thinking, pulling you against his chest as he rested his chin atop of your head. your breath was steady, warm against his skin.
sunghoon was just about to shut his eyes when a quiet part of him whispered—that it wasn’t just about you.
maybe it was also about jake.
sunghoon swallowed thickly, jaw clenching. maybe that was it—maybe all this time, he just wanted to prove that he could get the thing jake never could. like a game—a challenge. because in order to deserve something, you had to work for it, right?
and no one worked harder for you than jake.
so sunghoon wanted to beat that. he wanted to beat the boy who watched from a distance for years but never made a move. wanted to beat that ache in jake’s throat everytime your name came up, the way his voice got so soft when talking about you like he was holding fragile in his mouth.
but sunghoon didn’t hate jake. he never did. he swore on his mother about that. they grew up side by side, shared secrets, rides home, birthdays, roadtrips, and vacations. everything. jake knew about sunghoon’s family's bad relationship, and sunghoon even knew about jake’s father's infidelity, for god’s sake. they knew each other better than anyone else. he knew the way jake carried affection, but still went after the one thing jake could never reach for.
sunghoon just needed to know he could.
he closed his eyes, tried to breathe without waking you up. he snuggled and pulled you closer, planting your face in his chest as he inhaled the scent of your hair. “i would’ve liked you even if you were his,” he whispered, almost bitterly.
“maybe i liked you because you were his.”
—
“congratulations on your wedding!”
the camera zooms and pans across each guest—a college friend flashing a peace sign, your uncle dabbing sweat off his forehead, sunghoon’s little cousin waving at the lens, your two friends deciding on what pose to make—and then, jake.
he stands beside sunghoon as the best man, hand in his pocket, smile steady but soft. familiar.
the camera captures him glancing to the side—to you.
you’re adjusting your bouquet, tilting your head to fix a curl that escaped your updo. that strand falls gently across your cheek, catching the golden light like thread spun from sunlight. it reminded jake of the first time he saw you again after five years. your lips are painted soft, your lashes long, and there’s that bride glow to you—and it’s not just from the highlighter dusted across your cheekbones.
you look so beautiful. radiant in a way that doesn’t ask to be seen, but still steals the breath of anyone who dares to look.
sunghoon pulls you close to him, arm winding easily around his wife’s waist like second nature. you lean to his side, bouquet nestled between you. the soft rustle of your dress barely audible beneath the clicks of camera shutters. he grins—leaning his head slightly to match yours.
somewhere during the afterparty, when the music has softened and most of the guests are busy picking at the dessert table or swaying lazily on the dancefloor, sunghoon finds jake outside.
the air is cooler, quieter. just two bestfriends under the garden lights, their ties loosened and their drinks half-finished.
“...hey,” sunghoon starts, approaching jake from behind. jake looks over, the corners of his mouth lifting politely.
“congrats, man,” he says again, like he hasn’t already said it twice that day.
sunghoon smiles and lets out a breath, eyes fix on the rim of his glass. “thanks. i just…” he hesitates before meeting jake’s gaze. that’s just how sunghoon is—confrontational to others, but not to himself. “i wanted to say thank you. for… y’know, being here. for everything.”
jake gives a small nod, sipping his drink. “of course. i wouldn’t skip this big day for anything.”
a pause stretch between them.
“i mean it,” he adds, more serious now. “yn is everything to me. i love her, jake, genuinely. so—” he shook his head, lips twisting into a dry smile. “thank you for liking her first for me.”
jake says nothing. the words land heavy, heavier than the music and laughter behind them. they press into his ribs like an old bruise—one he knows never healed, anyway. sunghoon looks at him like he doesn’t know what to expect. a forgiveness, or an understanding that neither jake owes.
he just… blinks. because if jake says what he’s really thinking—that sunghoon’s a shitty friend and an asshole then it would ruin everything. the friendship was already fragile enough.
so he swallows it all down like always has. what good would it do now?
you looked happy. radiant. you probably want to settle down by thirty. he’s happy for you, as much as he hates to say it. and sunghoon… well, he got everything he wanted, didn’t he?
“you’re lucky,” he says, voice low but steady. jake claps a hand on sunghoon’s shoulder—too firm to be gentle, too soft to be angry—he gives it a light squeeze.
”don’t fuck it up. i’m still here, y’know?” then he turns and walks off, leaving sunghoon behind, mouth parted—almost confused.
as if that wasn’t what he did.
stealing you away.